The Life and Death of Gale Hawthorn
by bearberry915
Summary: Twelve years after the rebellion Gale is at the end of his rope but still searching for forgiveness. Dunk, alone, and depressed he returns to district 12 one last time. Warning: character death, self harm, suicide, dark themes, language, substance abuse, and more!
1. Gale

**A/N **So guess what? I re-did this. Hooray for me! It's now a two shot.

Disclaimer: If anything by the hunger games were mine, I would be crying of happiness right now.

Warning: Character death, suicide, language, self harm, substance abuse, self abuse (I'm not sure if that's the same as self harm), and a bunch more (that's all I could think of right now).

Notes: this takes place 12 years after the rebellion. Its a little OCC. The chapter is from Gale's point of view and the second is from Katniss. If you can think of a better title, tell me!

* * *

The sent of fresh paint and saw wood wafts out of the doorway as I walk up to the counter of Ripper's newly opened shop in District 2. A broad smile is plastered on my face, I can only hope that it stays that way. For the time being, at least.

"Hey Ripper, 5 bottles of your strongest liquor please."

She doesn't ask anything, she just complies. I suppose we are all pass words by now. The rebellion is done and over with, now all that's left is to pick up the pieces, to start all over again.

I wish.

After slapping the money on the table she hands me the brown, chilled, bottles and I stuff them in an old canvas bag. As I turn to go a rough, warm, hand encases mine. Though I am not surprised who it belongs to, I still feel the urge to look up. But when I look into Ripper's dark brown eyes, it shames me. I know she knows, and yet, still she says nothing. I suppose there is nothing that she _can_ do. Kissing my knuckles once, she lets go of my hands, allowing me to escape my failing smile.

As I head to the train station I slowly rebuild my facade. By the time I reach my destined platform, I make a point of greeting everyone I come across. It's not normal and I know it. Nothing is "normal" anymore. The only thing that feels natural to me is where I am heading. The one place I refused to go to for more than half a decade. I'm going home.

I'm going to 12.

* * *

The day's journey passes by me like a fleeting moment and by the time I stumble off the train, it is dark. I stand on the platform and look around, I am alone. Even after all these years district 12 is the least popular, but I can't say that I am surprised. Closing my eyes, I inhale deep, savoring the blend of pine and coal: scents that remind me of my childhood. I've been away for far too long.

Opening my eyes again I glance at the station clock, reading 2am. Not long till dawn now. I open up my bag and pull out a long black cloak, quickly sliding it around my body. It doesn't provide much warmth but it will have to do.

I take my time, wandering the streets until finally I get to my destination. The fence. Though there's nothing to be afraid of anymore, only a select few go beyond the fence, or so I've heard. I know there's no way to turn the electricity on and the wild animals are under control, but I guess old habits die hard.

* * *

It takes me awhile but I finally find my old spot, the spot were I use to enter the wild as a kid. Roots have grown over parts of the hole but that doesn't stop me, it doesn't take much to work them loose.

Quickly, and without caution, I squeeze though. I gain a few cuts but by now, I don't care, I have already dropped my facade. If I were to look in a mirror, I could only guess what I would see. Probably Hell.

I am no longer smiling and my eyes are dead, I let my body lead me to my destination. The only things I can think about is what is going to happen next and how. At the very least, the memories and knowledge from walking these paths for so many years as a child allow me that one, simple, miracle. I think about how I'm going to proceed at dawn later this morning, what I will see.

My mind shifts topics and I start thinking about how weak I am. How hollow and malnourished I have gotten from the weeks of starving my self. I have comfort though, I did it because I deserved it. I know I deserve to be punished, I deserve to die. Maybe then, I can be forgiven by the only person I have ever loved. Maybe then, Katniss will forgive me for killing her sister. For killing off the one piece of innocence she had in her life.

Over the years I have tried so many ways to redeem my self. I gave up money, happiness, blood, food, anything to be forgiven by Katniss. But none of it worked and it wasn't the same. She was never there.

I ended up giving all my money to the people rebuilding the districts. Not just out of charity but for another reason too: it was blood money. The very same filth that was given to me by Coin, I would of never been able to keep it. So I gave it away and I thought that the act of charity would ease my pain. It did nothing.

It wasn't enough so I gave up all my possessions. I know now, I was being a fool, but I thought that it would give me a purpose. I ended up living on the streets. I became someone great, "The Mockingjays right hand man", the hero, to a beggar in a matter of days.

From there the emptiness festered. It gnawed at me and tore at me until I found another way to ease the pain. At first it worked, the streams of crimson that ran down my arms was enough to forget. All I had to do was focus on the pain. But then I remembered and again, my method became useless. I remembered every scratch, every bruise I got while hunting with _her, _with Katniss, 7 years ago. I had no choice but to stop, the physical pain wasn't enough to forget the psychological pain.

After that, I thought that giving up food and water. I knew it would eventually kill me, but at that point I was just be happy to be put out of my misery.

I found out that it took too long. All it did was prolong my misery.

So here I am, at the spot which Katniss and I used to meet at, and it hasn't changed one bit. The pine trees are thick with needles and I'm sure if I checked the third tree on the left, I would find a bow with a quiver of arrows.

But as I said, here I am, about to end it all. Secretly, I always did like the drastic and the dramatic. It was one of the things that had always attracted me to Katniss.

* * *

I figure that I have a couple of hours to prepare myself before my last breath leaves this miserable body. I also figure that if I kill my self out here, the first person to find me will be Katniss. Maybe if she's the first one to read my note and the first one to discover my body, she will finally forgive me.

One by one I take out each item out of my tattered, but trusty, bag and lay them side by side. I don't waste time, it's time to get started. Not long now. I open one of my many bottles of liquor and take a nice long sip. I feel the liquid burn the inside of my throat and I can't help but think how good it feels. I sit myself down on a log and grab the pen, envelope, and paper that had been sitting side by side.

I start writing, but what do I say. Where do I begin? The beginning would make sense, I suppose.

_To: Katniss Mellark_

_From: Gale Hawthorn_

_August 15th_

_Katniss,_

_Before I say anything else I want to say how sorry I am for what I did to you. It was my fault that Prim died and it was my fault that I didn't protect her, that I didn't take care of her better. I have spent the last 6 years trying to make it up to you somehow, I've tried everything. But no matter what I do, nothing seems to work. I hope that, in my death, I will be able to make it up to you. Nothing_ _less seems fitting. I deserve this. _

_I tried, you know. I tried contacting you each year, every year on your birthday, but you would never answer the phone and you never returned my messages. It's okay though, I understand. _

_Anyway, I know you still hunt on this trail so I thought that you might be the one to find my body. I know not many people will miss me; I no longer have a purpose here, but please tell my mother and my siblings that I love them. I also wanted to say that I hope you have a good and happy life with Peeta. I know that we could never be able to have that apple pie life, not after Prim. _

_But Katniss, I need you to know... I didn't know __that__ would happen. I didn't know that Prim would die. If I had known, I would have stopped it. If I had known, I wouldn't have created them. If I could go back in time, I would replace my life with Prim's. I would rater die for her than for anything else, I would rather die for you, more than anything else. _

_Do you want to know what's funny? Did you know, that when Peeta got picked, I was going to volunteer for him? That way I could have_ _protected you in the Games. That way if anything went wrong, I would have been able to get you out alive and go_ _back to your family. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. I promised. Someone needed to keep both our families going, that someone was me._

_I know this seems off topic, but do you remember all the times we share together? The time we got Prim's goat? The time we shot our first deer together? I still remember them, I still remember when we were friends. Good friends, best friends._

_One last thing before I die. I also wanted to say, Katniss, that I loved you. I still love you. You use to be MY little Katnip. Mine and only mine. I knew you better than anyone else in the world. In return, you knew me so well, that you could write a biography on me better than I could write one on my self. When I was alone, fatherless, starved; when no one bothered to help my family - you came along. You helped me, and I helped you, and our families never went hungry again. We were each other's_ _other half. From day one you captivated my heart and soul. _

_When you went to the Games and came back with another man, you crushed my heart. But, at the time, that was okay. You did it to survive and I thought you would come back to me. And when you demoted me from best friend to cousin, you trampled on it_ _again. Still, I let it go, I told my self that I knew you. I told my self lies. But when he announced to the world that you two were married, had slept together, and were having a baby - you massacred it. You stabbed it. You left me bleeding in the darkness, alone. You, The Girl on Fire, kept true to your name, you set my whole being, heart and soul, on fire. In the best and worst of ways.  
_

_But then came the rebellion, and district 13. He was gone, kidnapped, and you turned to me, your long lost friend. We talked, we hunted, we became friends all over again. And I forgave you in a heartbeat. _

_But that was before Prim died. That's before everything changed. I know I can forgive you, but can you forgive me? _

_Remember my little Katnip... I have and always will love you._

_Love,_

_Gale_

I re-read the letter making sure that my final words are good enough. They're not, they never will be. No matter how much I fix it, there will always be one little thing that doesn't seem quite right.

After folding the letter into the envelope, I lift up the bottle of liquor to my lips. When nothing comes out, I look over to the pile of supplies and realize that I had just finished my 3rd bottle. As pathetic as it sounds, the only thing I can think of is "_Good_. _It makes the pain easier_."

After uncapping the next bottle, I snatch a photograph lying on the floor amongst the other items. I smile sadly, without malice, as I slip the tattered scrap into the envelope. Even in my drunken haze, I can recall the contents of the photo perfectly. It's a picture of me and Katniss, taken about 2 years after we first met. It's Katniss' favorite photo, or at least that's what she always told me. In the photo, we're sitting next to each other at the base of a tree in a meadow, smiling. Nothing more.

I know to a regular person it just seems like to friends sitting side by side, but it's more then that. That was the afternoon following our most successful hunt we ever had. That day my traps gave us a rabbit and a fox and earlier Katniss had shot a few squirrels. But then, on the way home, we shot an old doe who, just by chance, was wandering too close to the fence. At the end of the day we had earned more money than I had ever set eyes on.

As the memory washes away, I seal up the letter with the rest of my happiness.

Looking at the sky, I recognize the familiar tint signaling that dawn is approaching. Not wasting anymore time, I quickly set up one of my most complex traps. This time, though, it's meant to keep animals, or rather humans, out instead of capturing them.

By now I'm on my last bottle of alcohol and know I am completely smashed. And when a little of the strong smelling liquid dribbles out of my mouth, I wipe it away angrily. I need to do this.

Downing most of the contents of the bottle, I pick up my throwing knife. Even though my hands are shaking, I can feel the firmness of the handle, the sturdy ridges. At this point, it's what's keeping me anchored from a complete meltdown.

* * *

I sit down on a tree trunk and I stare at the sky once again, blankly this time. I watch the sky as it turns to a soft nameless colour. And even though I'm not entirely sure why, I wait.

A rustle in the bushes startles me and I almost gasp when I realize who it is. I feel like her name is just a whisper on my lips so I don't bother saying the two syllables that has caused so much bitter sweet change. "_And pain.", _I add on silently.

We stare at each other silently, tension so heavy I could cut it with a knife.

Even though the sun is a couple of hours away, I can see her clearly. The drunk haze is gone and my vision is so focused, I feel like I had never drank in the fist place. When I look at her I can't help but notice that she looks younger than the last time I saw her. The bags under her eyes are gone and she stands up tall and strong. The pale light engulfs her and gives her a supernatural glow and I can almost swear that I can see the fire in her eyes.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

"Gale? Is... Is that you?"

I let out a bitter bark of laughter, unable to react any other way. A few seconds tick away before I say something but I don't bother answering her question, instead I ask her one of my own.

"Come to see the farewell show?", I say, a unusual wave of calm settling over my body. I decide to blame it on the five empty bottles that lay at my feet.

"The farewell show?", she repeats in disbelief, "I haven't seen you in what? 12 years, and the way you greet me is by saying 'Come to see the farewell show?'"

I shrug nonchalantly, face hard as stone. My knuckles go white as I grip my knife harder and respond.

"Yeah, well, I'm leaving now. I actually didn't expect you to turn up until later but I guess now's a good time as any."

"Now's a good time as any _for what? _What's going on here Gale?" she asks, confusion glazing her eyes, "Gale?" she says cautiously "What are you doing?"

I have my knife raised and ready and at this point I stop thinking, "Apologizing." I murmur with a sad smile.

She puts two and two together in less then a second and just before I can do anything she yells, "Gale. Stop. You don't want to do this. Comon, step away, we can talk about this." By the last sentence she is desperate, "Don't be stupid! Gale, you can't do this, I am NOT letting you do this."

She steps forward and suddenly the knife is turned on her. I look her in the eye and I tell her to sit, she does as she's told for once. A few times she tries to get up, but each time she does I make a cut on my skin, it's the ultimate threat.

Finally she's had enough. On the brink of crying she asks me a question, "Why are you doing this?"

"To be forgiven." I reply in deadpan, I'm on autopilot again.

I can see she's trembling but I don't care, I need to end it now, it will be all over soon. Then she can waltz right back to her stupid husband.

"Goodbye my Katnip. My precious Katnip." I whisper tenderly.

I bring the serrated blade to my wrists and I press it down as hard as I can. It surprises me how much it hurts. Katniss jumps up and tries to stop me but she gets caught in my "trap". My vision goes blurry as I continue to cut parallel lines down my left arm. When I try to switch arms the pain flairs up and I find that I can't even hold the blade. I can hear movement from somewhere to the right and I know that Katniss has managed to untangle her self. It's then, that I make the final decision.

_It's time to finish this._

* * *

**A/N **Annnnnd scene. So, here's part one. Part two will be coming shortly. Few things I wanted to say:

1) I always thought of Gale as just a tad over dramatic at times... At least when he wanted to be. Hence, the extra heaping of drama.

2) I dunno if cameras were a luxury item in the districts. They probably were but guess what? I don't care. Some how there was a camera to take that picture of Katniss and Gale. End of story.

3) I still think I could improve this story. I might re-write it AGAIN.


	2. Katniss

**A/N **Holy cow. While fixing this, I accidentally added almost 4k words on to this document. Not that I'm complaining or anything... I'm still unhappy how this turned out though. I feel like I jump around scenes too much. Oh well, I'll probably redo this _again _in the future.

* * *

I franticly slam into Gale as he turns the knife on himself, I don't even have to look to know that he's going for the heart. It's a hunter's instinct. The only thing I can think is "_Why are you doing this?" _

Sandwiched between the ground and me, Gale is powerless. This is my one chance. Grabbing for the knife, I use my leverage to pry it out of his hands and I throw it blindly behind me. Quickly and carefully, I roll off of him, letting out the breath I was holding. The knife didn't stab his heart.

My joy is short lived.

Slowly, a pool of crimson spreads across Gales abdomen like a drop of water on a parchment full of ink. I sit in a silent moment of shock, I was so sure that I had saved him. Snapping out of my daze, I start taring pieces of my shirt, wrapping his wrists. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know he wont make it. I know that I am too far away from the fence to get help in time. But I don't care.

Then, all of a sudden, reaching out his hand, Gale tries to stop me. When I look into his eyes the message is clear _"Don't bother Katniss, it's too late. You know it's too late."_ I shake my head stubbornly but I stop. Pulling him into my lap, I wrap my arms around him, cradling him as I murmur in his ear.

"Gale, why? I don't understand. Why?" A low sob escapes my throat, "Why did you do this?"

He looks up into my eyes smiles weakly.

I know the answer. It's because I utterly abandoned him. Because I married another man who I never really completely loved. Because I slept with another man and I bore his children. Because that's what Gale and I should have had. Because that's what Gale and I will never have.

Under my palms I can feel his heartbeat slow down, and as his breathing gets shallower I know that he's going to die soon. I know that he knows that too, again, it's an hunters instinct.

He reaches up to me and cups my cheek, leaving a bloody smear on my face. I shutter at the thought that I literally have my best friend's blood on my hands. Suddenly, he starts talking, and despite my effort to quiet him, he continues on with great effort trying.

"Letter. Po-pocket." he struggles, "I. I'm s-sorry."

He lifts his head up, closing the space between us, and I know what he wants. Stooping to reach him, I press my lips to his. Despite his condition I can feel him melt into me, like he had been waiting for this for years. I can't really bring myself to care though, the only thing I can think about is how cold his lips feel. How colourless they look. I bend down closer and I give him one more short kiss. It's the least I can do.

"I-" he tries to speak again and I hush him but it doesn't work for very long.

"K-katnis. Love y-you." he rasps, gripping my hand. I'm sure there will be bruises come tomorrow.

Then his hand goes lax with the rest of his body and I shut my eyes listening for his last breath. One never comes. When I open my eyes again, I find that his are open and trained on me. A few silent tears trickle down the sides of my face as I take one last look into his captivating, stormy, eyes before shutting them.

"_Gale I am so sorry."_

After sitting in silence for a few minuets, I quickly search his pockets for the letter he was talking about. When I finally find it, I'm not sure if I'm ready or if I even want to read the letter. Instead, I decide that I should go get help. I need to bring him back to the other side of the fence. He deserves a proper burial.

* * *

I sit quietly at the old, oak, table alongside Gale and I's family. A few other people from Panem have shown up, but I don't pay any attention to them. All they want is to make money off of his death, show his burial on TV. _The Honorable burial of the right hand man of the Girl on Fire._ In my mind, it's none of their business, this is _Gale's _funeral, not a "family fun event"_. _I keep wishing and hoping that they all go die in a hole. Sadly, it doesn't happen.

As they continue to talk, I learn that Mother will be doing the preparations of his body and Gale's family will be planning the service. I continue to listen in silence until a fight starts to break out.

"_Gale is dead and all they can do is fight_." It's disgraceful. Anger slowly bubbles up inside of me until I can take it no longer.

"Enough!" I roar, "Gale is dead!" the noise stops immediately.

I'm still the girl on fire. I'm still the one who won the 74th hunger games. I'm still the one who took down Snow. They fear me. They respect me. They want to know what I have to say.

"Did you hear me?" I ask. My voice is now so small that it could be snuffed out as easily as a tiny flame. "Gale is _**dead**_. And all you manage to do is fight!" some of group hang their heads in shame. "_I _will choose where to bury him."

"And what gives _YOU _the right to pick the place he should rest?" asks Rory angrily, "We all know it's your fault he's dead!" I can hear the hate and anger dripping from his accusation, it's louder than the words themselves.

Hazelle snaps at him and that shuts him up. But still, everyone turns to face me, expecting an answer. I decide to evade the question instead.

"The pond." I say quietly

"What?" I can see the questions forming in Hazelle's mind. What pond? Why there? Where is it? The unvoiced questions could go on and on.

"The pond, outside the fence. Gale and I used to go there. It's peaceful and serene, just like you wanted Hazelle."

She nods her head and it's final, Gale will be put to rest at the pond. I stand up and quickly walk out of the room before Rory can ask me another question.

* * *

After my father's death but before the Games, I wasn't emotional about many things. Prim was really the only one who got through that barrier and occasionally Gale got through too. But when I came back, everything had changed, including my emotional control. It was just too much.

* * *

I sit in the corner of the cold metal room, crying, letting my mother stroke her petite, soft, hands through my hair. In between gasps of air, I catch little glimpses of the pristine and proper pages of the autopsy report she had been reading just moments before. The blue lines of inky streams formed in perfectly written cursive, stare up at me, grinning a cheshire grin. I feel the slow bubble of rage that boils up inside of me–angry at Gale, angry at me, angry at everyone–and I lunge forward, ripping out of my mothers protective hold. I grab the papers with untamed fury and throw them at something, anything, that I place the blame on. When I'm done, I slide down to the floor next to Gale, arms around my knees, as the papers float mockingly to the ground like fluffy, angelic, fledgling down feathers.

In the background I hear a sigh followed by footsteps as my mother leaves the room. Once the echos fade I reach up, clasping Gale's cold, lifeless, hand. I try to slow the steady flow of salt water tracking it's way down my cheek. By now you'd think I wouldn't have any tears left.

When I finally manage to achieve that, I look at Gale, _really look._

As much as I lie to myself, tell myself that the report is wrong, I can't ignore the obvious signs on my best friend's body. Even though he is covered by a crisp, white, sheet I can see the evidence of pain and loathing.

From the floor, I run my hand over the multiple scars that are scattered across his olive-toned skin. "Six_ years of self mutilation." _My mother's voice reminds me. Six years of cutting.

I reach up and trace up his arm, grateful for the small miracle that it's his right and not his left. I don't think I would be able to handle seeing the ugly stitches holding his flesh together. Again.

When I near the crook of his arm, I take in a sharp breath as air as my fingers brush over hundreds of pin-prick scabs. "Two_ years of 'self medicating'". _I know my mother was trying to be kind when she said that, but she shouldn't of bothered. I knew what "self medicating" meant, I knew that he had been taking drugs.

I feel like I should leave this cold, lifeless room, but I can't. I spent so much time away from Gale and now I will never see him again, I _have _to stay.

Standing up stiffly, I reach out and tuck a piece of his soft hair behind his ears. When I step back I stare at his closed eyes, expecting them to open again. When nothing happens, I trace my fingers along his face, trying to memorize every detail lost from time. When I reach his lips, my fingers linger, feeling the cracked and dried skin there. Reminding me. "_Prior to his death there was three days of water deprivation." _If I could guess, Gale kept solely to the liquor. Well, I didn't really have to guess now than did I? If the empty bottles that welcomed me the day he died were any indicator. That and the resounding sound of my mothers voice in my head, "Eight_ years of alcohol abuse."_

Oh Gale, what did you do?

A few tears begin to escape and I grab his hand again, I start rubbing it viciously, repeating a faux-mantra in my mind. _Maybe if I warm him up, he will come back to life. Maybe if I can..._

I know that's a load of crap but I want him back so badly.

My mother comes in once again and tries to comfort me, but nothing she says or does makes a difference. I know she wants to get more preparations done for the funeral but I refuse to go. Not yet. Before she is about to leave again, she folds the thin, white sheet that's covering his body in half. In the distance I can still her the sharp clicking of shoes as I inhale sharply.

I knew that it was bad, but this... There are no words for this.

The exposed skin reveals thousands upon thousands of scars and bruises. One bruise goes all along his rib cage, making him look like he took a group beating and his ribs are sticking out abnormally from the days of starvation.

I quickly recover him, unable to take in the gruesome horror show beneath the white sea of cotton.

* * *

I stay all night.

If anyone deserves a vigil, it would be Gale.

Resting my back on the tiled wall, I shut my eyes, temporarily blocking out the cacophony of guilt that tries to consume me. I think about my childhood, about the games, about the events that led to _this. _I think about the funeral.

By this time tomorrow, Gale will be left to rot in the earth. Forever.

* * *

I can feel the rumpled surface of Gale's unopened letter burning in the pocket of my favorite pair of hunting pants. I've yet to read it, I'm too much of a coward.

* * *

In a moment of silence, I take a moment to observe the funeral now that all heads are bowed and no eyes are on me. Gale's family is on my left, my mother and Hazelle sitting side by side, comforting eachother. I can't help but feel a pang in my chest when I see tears slip down Hazelle's cheeks, crushing the illusion of her endless strength. To my right sits Peeta, arm slung around our son, Cinna, who is hand in hand with his older sister. Both boys eyes are closed but I see two crystal blue spheres peaking from under smokey lashes belonging to my daughter, Prim. When she sees me looking she gives me a sad smile. She never met Gale but knew he meant the world to me.

After the quick exchange I turn my head to look forward and I stare blankly at the rest of the set up. Black satin and lace line the furniture and in the back, there are tables piled with fancy Capitol food. The people from the capitol eventually got the memo and decided to fuck off but they still offered to help with the funeral. Apparently, that included "funeral accessories"–whatever the hell that meant–and food.

When people start raising their heads again, I realize that I can't let Gale go without saying something. I stand up abruptly, almost like I am afraid that I won't be noticed.

"Wait." I plead to the audience "I need to say something first."

I run on the ridiculous platform that was set up and I take in the crowd around me. I feel everyones eyes trained on me and I stand up straighter.

"I wanted to say that Gale was my best friend. He still is. When my father passed away I met Gale and he taught me a way to survive. Without him, my mother and I wouldn't be here today."

I purposely replace the word "family" with "mother", Prim was family.

"Gale always had my back and was always there for me, even if I wasn't" I pause guiltily "always there for _him_."

Rory snorts in disgust and calls out "You got that right Katniss."

I continue my speech and ignore him.

"He was a great man. He saved us all. He saved me." I can feel my throat tightening with emotion but I am determined to finish this.

"He fought in what he believed was right. He followed his heart and used his mind to think the impossible to make it possible."

My tears start to fall freely but I know what I have to do. Not for me, not for his family, not for district 12. For Gale. I know the effects it will have on me will be extremely destructive but I don't care.

I take a deep breath before letting out the first note of the song.

"_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you."_

My voice cracks on the last note and I start sobbing, unable to do anything else.

Above me I hear the mocking jays pick up the bitter sweet melody.

"I am so sorry Gale." I say in a small voice, scratched and wrecked from crying, "I am _so_ sorry."

At this point I feel like curling into a ball and disappearing.

* * *

I feel a set of firm hands gripping me, keeping me upright, as another pair lead me off the makeshift stage. When we get down Mother takes Cinna and Prim while Peeta whispers soothing words in my ear. But no matter what he says, I can't help but have the sinking feeling that I chose the wrong man. But deep in the cell of my heart, I _do_ know. I chose the wrong one and it some how resulted in a good man's death. But, that doesn't change the fact that he's dead.

Peeta falls silent as they shut and carry Gale's coffin to an old oak tree where his grave has already been dug. As they lower him in, I push my way to the front of the crowd that has gathered. One by one, each person throws in a handful of rich, sweet smelling, earth saying goodbye as they pass by. I stand right in the middle of the stream of people, unmoving, interrupting the flow like a rock in a stream.

Finally, when most people have gone, it's my turn. I stoop down and carefully pick up my own handful of dirt but I can't throw it in. Instead, I let it slide through my fingers. Someone places more dirt in my hands but it's like trying to fill a sieve with sand.

I stare sullenly at the empty hole, taking one last look at the still-visible coffin, before walking down to the lake where I sit for awhile.

In the background I can hear my mother talking, "Boys, just give her a few moments, I know she's going to want to do this. Just a few minuets, please."

I hear her light footsteps getting closer and closer until they stop right behind me.

"Katniss? Come on, they need to finish. You need to say goodbye."

I nod in understanding, I know she's right. But as I stand up I spot something peaking up from underneath a bushel of green.

_It's perfect._

I run over to the young awaiting katniss plant, and I pluck it delicately. As I walk back over I pull out my old hunting knife that I never leave home without.

I suppose the mix of my unstable demeanor and sorrow alarms Peeta, so he snatches my trusty blade away as I pass him.

"Peeta." I snap harshly, spinning to face him, "I would never do something so horrifying in front of our children." I don't have to say the word, he can read in between the lines.

My eyes narrow at the mere thought of my children having to witness something so awful as my own suicide. I had to watch Gales, I had to watch him die in my arms. I would never have them observe anything like that. Never.

"Now give me the knife back." I hiss forcefully.

Reluctantly he hands the knife back over and I shoot him an annoyed glance. Talk about trust issues.

* * *

Sitting cross legged at the edge of the rectangular hole, I silently drizzle the dark earth in to the grave, listening to it hit Gale's coffin with a light patter. It reminds me of my childhood, of rain on our old tin roof.

Then, without thinking, I throw in the flower along with my last whispered apology.

"I'm so sorry Gale."

All of a sudden I am unable to breath, drowning in grief, and it pushes me to the edge. I pick up the knife that I had previously set on the ground and slice open my palm, wincing at the sharp bite it provides. Yelling, Peeta lurches forward and secures the knife, snatching it away from me. I gladly give it to him, my goal is not to die, simply to give Gale one last part of me.

I tightly squeeze my wound over the flower and Gale's grave, and the blood trickles out in a steady stream. When I feel that ready, I peer over the edge of the grave. The Katniss flower sits there peacefully, the crimson looking like droplets of morning dew.

Suddenly, I'm back in the arena. Somethings after me and I need to get away, I need to survive. I start sprinting. I blindly push branches out of the way, unaware of my direction ignoring the sound of my name being called. At this point, I don't care. I just need to be alone. I just need to be safe.

* * *

I keep on running for more than an hour until I get to the one place I want to be - where Gale and I first met. Where Gale and I last met. Where Gale died.

I find an old log, and sit down, burying my face in my hands. I feel all the things I felt when durning the war and more. I try separating my memories and emotions, trying to pretend they didn't happen to me. I try and pretend it's someone elses anguish, someone elses heartbreak, agony, suffering, despair. Someone elses pain.

It doesn't work and I still feel miserable. I reaching into my pants pocket, I pull out Gale's letter, I might as well read it while I'm alone.

Slipping my hand in, I pull out a picture of Gale and I in the meadow. Smiling to myself I bask in the happy memory. I can't believe he remembered after all these years, my favorite picture. Perhaps the letter won't be so bad after all. Carefully, I unfold the piece of paper, not wanting to tear it.

As I start reading, my heart sinks. This wasn't the happy news I was hoping for and by the time I get to the end of the first paragraph my body is wracked with new found tears.

It was all my fault. It really was _my_ fault.

As I continue to read, a sob is ripped from my throat.

By the time I get to the last few sentences I am barely lucid.

_You, The Girl on Fire, kept true to your name, you set my whole being, heart and soul, on fire. In the best and worst of ways._

_But then came the rebellion, and district 13. He was gone, kidnapped, and you turned to me, your long lost friend. We talked, we hunted, we became friends all over again. And I forgave you in a heartbeat. _

_But that was before Prim died. That's before everything changed. I know I can forgive you, but can you forgive me? _

That hits me hard but by now my throat is raw that all I can manage is a low choking sound. After all I put him through, he still forgave me. Out of everyone in Panem he was the most brave, kind, and strong-willed person out there. Forget me, the girl on fire. Forget Peeta, the boy with the bread. Remember Gale, the real hero of the rebellion. He was braver than any of us.

I quickly dry my tears and I start to reread the letter, wanting but unable to put it down.

All of a sudden something in the letter pops out at me.

_I tried, you know. I tried contacting you each year, every year on your birthday, but you would never answer the phone and you never returned my messages. It's okay though, I understand_

"Never returned my messages?" I mouth suspiciously, still unable to use my voice.

The phone? I never got any phone calls, I was always out. He said he left messages each year. I never got any messages.

If I had known Gale had called, I would have called him back. Whether I was angry about Prim or not, he is, was, my best friend. I would always call him back.

A theory comes to mind and suddenly the anger inside of me wants to explode. I hope to God it's not right, because if it is, I don't know what I'll do.

* * *

I yank open the door.

"Peta! Where are the kids?" I yell angrily. It comes out weird though, my voice is high and scratchy.

"Katniss, your back!" He exclaims as he runs down the staircase.

He tries gives me a hug but I shove him away.

"God, I was so scared that you would do something rash." he says, fear striking his eyes "The kids are at your mom's. Why do you ask?"

"Because" I spit "we need to have a little talk."

He hesitantly steps forward, ushering me towards the couch.

* * *

By the end of our "little chat", Peeta has confessed almost everything to me. He knew Gale called me every year on my birthday. In return, every year he erased the messages.

"Katniss. Honey." Peeta reasoned, "I thought it would be for the best. I didn't want him to hurt you again. I didn't want the man who killed Prim to come near our children."

My mouth turns into a look of disgust.

"Do not give me that crap Peeta!" I scream "He was in pain Peeta! He needed me! I was his best friend and he needed me!"

I'm not sure how I'm able to voice this, a few hours ago I was sure that I wouldn't be able to talk for hours, let alone scream.

"I was suppose to catch him when he fell! You bastard, he died believing that I hated him!"

To my surprise, Peeta yells back. I never took him for some one who back with out a life threatening situation.

"Katniss, I have had enough of this!" he thunders, "I treated you better than he ever could! I wa-"

"You don't know that!" I interrupt.

"Yes. I. Do. Now shut up!" he roars.

I quiet myself. I'm actually taken aback by this new side of him but I don't let it show. I won't let him have the upper hand, though, so I snarl in response.

"I knew that if you ever, _ever _came back in contact with him, you would leave _me. _You were always going to choose him. It was _always _going to be _him. _I was just lucky. If his bomb hadn't killed your sister I would be alone right now." He pauses for a breath and I can hardly move, words sinking in, "So what if he's dead? You still have me and you still have children dammit!"

He finally stops yelling and starts to stalk away, but I don't let him get far.

"So what if he's dead?" I shriek, "Just lucky? You think it's 'just lucky' that my sister died?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You're a bastard you know that?"

In some sort of an attempt to apologize, he reaches for me. In return, I swiftly try to break his hand. When I can't, I hit him as hard as I can in the face.

"I'm packing some of my stuff and I'm going to my mothers." I hiss as he tries to recover, "If you know what's good for you, you won't follow me.

He looks at me, disbelievingly.

"So this is it?" he questions softly "Your leaving?"

"Yes." I snap "I am."

Peeta throws me a look and I can see the evil that lingers there. The last time I saw that look was when he was trying to kill me. It frightens me.

I'm not stupid. To avoid him from automatically condemning me I add on a soft "For now."

I watch as the wild look in his eyes dull and ebb away. I'm safe for now, and that's all that matters, but I don't intend to come back ever again.

I continue to speak, this time in a softer manner, I don't want to set him off. "Peeta, I don't know if I'm going to be able to forgive you for this. For the time being I'm changing my name to Katniss Hawthorn."

As soon as he hears this, the fight drains right out of him. I can see the pain that crosses Peeta's face but I can't bring my self to feel bad for him. He's just a selfish lowlife who killed a good man. A man who was my best friend.

Before he can say anything, I rush upstairs to gather my things.

I'm gone in 15 minuets.

* * *

As we walk to the pond I can hear my youngest child complaining, "Mom, Prim is being mean again!"

I sigh turning to my daughter, "Primrose Everdeen, be nicer to your brother." I see her huff and roll her eyes in response to my sons smug smile. Before he can bask in his glory I begin speaking again, "And _you_, Cinna Finnic Everdeen, you behave."

Turning back around, I smile to my self. Everything is going to be just fine.

About an hour ago I had picked up my two children, no explanation, no nothing. All I told my mother was that we were leaving and that we wouldn't be back for a long time. Even though we were never close after Father's death, I was grateful to her, just this once. She understood and asked no questions. I was just a mother, like she once was, trying to keep her children safe.

She helped me pack their bags with a few important items before saying goodbye. I know she'll miss them, as they will miss her, but she trusts me and I know I wont let her down. Not this time.

All three of us had left out the back door and slowly made our way to the fence. Once we got there, we started to go down the path that led to Gales grave. And that's where we are now, on the way to my best friend's final resting spot.

When we get to the lake, we sit down under the shade of an old willow tree to rest. I lean against the trunk as I watch my two children play with each other. I can only imagine what's going through their minds. So much has happened in a few days.

I know Prim, my oldest, will understand. She has a vague idea of what has happened and knows why her name is no longer Mellark. She knows that Peeta did something really bad and understands why I changed my last name to Hawthorn. I think she even gets that she may change her name to Hawthorn in the future.

As long as she can grasp what is happening, she will keep her brother and I grounded as long as she can. Like she always has.

I sigh happily. Sometimes I can really see myself in her.

* * *

After about half an hour I stand up and make my way over to the old oak where Gale was laid to rest. Before Cinna can follow me, Prim grabs his hand, offering to take him swimming. I understand that she is trying to give me time alone so I give my nod of approval.

When I get to his grave, I sit down to the polished tomb stone and I start to talk.

"Hey Gale." I begin casually, almost as he were sitting right next to me "So I've decided that I'm moving to the wideness. I'm gonna live out here for awhile. If the districts ever need me again, they can come looking for me. Not I for them. I'm done with that part of my life." I give a tight smile, "It's funny. Do you remember all those years ago when you asked me to run away with you? Well, I'm doing it, and I'm taking Prim and Cinna with me." I sigh as I continue my speech, "Y'know, I'm thinking of going West. There are rumors going around that if I go far enough we will hit _the ocean. _Wouldn't that be great? The last time we were close to the ocean was when I was at district 4. Can't risk going there though, I might be caught by Peeta..."

I continue talking for almost an hour.

* * *

After I stand up again I call to my children, they come running. I am, however, surprised of the gift they bring me: in their hands lie a mix of about twenty katniss buds flowers.

In attempt to not cry in front of my children, I take the flowers and turn around, placing them on the pile of freshly moved dirt.

As my kids get dressed I whisper one last thing to Gale.

"Just letting you know, I'm yours now. I changed my name to Katniss Hawthorn. I love you. I hope that I can come back to see you someday."

Just as I finish speaking, my children come up behind me, ready to go.

"Alright. Cinna, Prim, lets go. Time's awaisting."

"Yes mom!" they say together in a small chorus.

I wrap my arms around both their shoulders as we take our first few steps to a new life. Looking up at the 3 o'clock sky, I know what we're missing.

All we're missing is a sunset.

* * *

**A/N** Doesn't this just make you want to kill Peeta? Personally I love Gale (book wise) and I always thought that Katniss should end up with him instead of Peeta. Whatever works.

I wrote this before the movie came out so the lyrics to the song is the same but the tune is different. I will post a link to a song on youtube that I thought would match the song very nicely. There are no words, just the tune (and sorry, but some of the notes are sharp).

If you review, I would be interested what your emotional reaction was. Why? Because I am curious and I want to know. Do I really need another reason?

Also, I found the perfect cover for this story but I don't know where it is from or who did the piece of art. Some anonymous person just sent me the link. I would really like to get in contact with the artiest but I can't. If someone finds the artist, please tell me.

Other explanations of this chapter:

1) I dunno, I did't want katniss to catch Gales last breath, I wanted her to miss it. It was sort of like a punch (a slap would be to mild of a word) to the face to know that even though he was with him, she completely missed his last breath.

2) I didn't know what to call Katniss' kids so I named them Cinna (7 1/2 years old) and Prim (11 almost 12 years old). Yeah, how original. If you can think of different names, tell me. I'll probably use them.

3) Last line explanation: the hero's riding off into the sunset. Nuff said.

** ~Bear**

Link to song: www. youtube watch?v=v2obqRINOAg&feature=related


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